


hit the dirt

by 4ofwands



Category: Overlord (Movie 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Chase has PTSD, Chase lives, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Morton Chase Gets His Head Bashed In: I Guess? A Novel., Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, You cannot tell me otherwise, but lyle tibbet made it worth it, graphic-ish depiction of violence, honestly i didn't love this movie?, i wanna say "could be read as chase/tibbet" but yknow what?, obligatory secret history reference, ohmygod they were roommates...., their relationship was canon, they are in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:16:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26884987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4ofwands/pseuds/4ofwands
Summary: the war hasn't yet left morton chase. but thank god, neither has lyle tibbet.
Relationships: Morton Chase & Lyle Tibbet, Morton Chase/Lyle Tibbet
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3





	hit the dirt

The night sky of Normandy was alight with golden blooms of fire and if the men on the ground had a chance to look up, they might just have found it beautiful. It could be argued that the tension that hung heavily in the air and the distant shouts and gunfire were anything but beautiful, but what is beauty if not terror?

If beauty is terror then what is desire? We may think we have many desires, but in fact, we have only one. What is it? 

_ To live. _

Privates first class Chase, Penner, Boyce, and Tibbet were filled with the desire to live as they crouched apprehensively at the edge of the forest. The church- their target- loomed in the distance. Vast, Gothic. Tibbet scoffed softly, breaking the silence.

“What else they got in there, vampires? ‘Place gives me the creeps,” he mumbled. Chase rolled his eyes and Boyce stifled a chuckle. Penner a wild, blank look in his eyes, like a caged animal.

“Let’s move out,” Chase rose, followed by Boyce, but he froze. A rumbling noise pierced the air, drawing closer. “Hold it.” 

A Wehrmacht truck was crossing the pastureland, heading straight for them. The headlights swept over the earth, rapidly closing in on the men.

“Hit the dirt!” Chase screamed. Down they go, ready for a firefight, all except for one. Tibbet stayed standing, frozen in place.

Tibbet was not supposed to freeze. The truck was not supposed to keep going. They were all supposed to drop to the ground and watch as the truck would turn right and ignore them, and they would think nothing of it and continue their mission, but that was not the case.

The truck barreled forward. Chase opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. He reached out to grab Tibbet’s leg and drag him out of the line of danger, but he couldn’t reach. The truck slammed directly into Tibbet, and he crumpled to the ground. Chase whipped his head around to look for Boyce and Penner, but they were gone, and he was alone. The driver got out of the truck.

“Wir haben einen fallen lassen,” The driver shouted, and Chase’s eyes welled up with tears. He had no idea what he was saying, but he knew it was disastrous. The driver grabbed Tibbet around his midriff and dragged him to the back, grunting as he heaved him into the bed- just another body on the pile. 

The tears were streaming down Chase’s face at this point. He couldn’t stand to watch the truck drive away, so he stared at his hands. To his horror, he could see the veins begin to thicken and darken, and he could hear the blood gurgling under his skin. He was transforming, turning into the same monster that filled him with such terror, and he could not stop it. He looked up and Boyce was back, staring at him with eyes blown wide with horror. Boyce was going to kill him. 

“Ed-” He managed to choke out before Boyce swung the butt of his bayonet directly into the side of his head. 

_ “Chase!”  _ The voice was distant. Barely real. Another hit to his head, and Chase was hyperventilating.

“Chase!” The voice was real this time, and hands were gripping Chase’s shoulders. There was someone yelling in his face, and he still couldn’t breathe. The pounding in his head was almost too much to bear.

“Chase!” Third time’s a charm. Morton Chase woke up.

“It’s me, Chase,” It took him a moment to recognize the face above him, and when he did, the headache began to fade. He was in bed, “It’s Lyle. I’m here.”

“Lyle,” Chase spoke his name slowly as if testing the word to ensure it was safe. Tossing a rock on a landmine, praying it’s a dud. Lyle nodded, letting go of Chase’s shoulders. 

“Yessir,” Lyle sighed. He was sitting at Chase’s bedside, dressed in slacks and that one blue button-up he refused to keep tucked. “Must’ve been a nasty dream, huh? You were thrashin’ all over the place, kicking and grabbin’ your head. Thought you were gonna rip your hair out.”

“I…” Chase trailed off, not quite able to find the words. He pulled himself up to a seated position and sniffled softly, then furrowed his brow. He lifted his fingers to his face and touched his cheek. Sure enough, it was stained with tears. “Where…” 

Lyle let out another dejected sigh. “Hell, this again? You’re in my apartment, in New York. It’s 1945, October-” He stood up abruptly and opened the closet opposite the bed to check his calendar, a cheap thing decorated with pinup girls that he had bought from a Navy man near the end of the war. “October eleventh. Ring any bells?”

Chase nodded slowly. 

“Great,” Lyle closed the cabinet and rubbed his cheek. Chase could see the sadness in his eyes, and he was struck with sudden regret.

“I’m sorry,” Chase mumbled, rubbing his eyes and kicking off the covers. Lyle froze, staring at Chase with an incredulous expression. Chase was suddenly struck with fear. “I- What?”

“You’re  _ sorry? _ The _ fuck _ , Chase, why are you sorry?” Lyle exclaimed, his voice suddenly raised. Chase stammered for a moment, struck by the bitterness and disappointment in his voice. Lyle seemed to notice this and immediately changed his tone to a hushed whisper. “Hey, no, I’m not mad at you. I’m not, I promise.”

“I- I don’t know what to do, Lyle, I- I keep having that dream-” Chase stuttered, holding back tears as Lyle returned to his side and gently set his hands on Chase’s shoulders. 

“The one about the truck and Boyce?” Lyle’s voice was a soft murmur and it calmed Chase’s trembling. Chase nodded. “Christ.” Lyle drew in a slow breath, rubbing small circles with his thumbs across Chase’s shoulders. “You scared me. You looked…”

“Like a monster?”

“No. You looked small. So  _ goddamn  _ small.”

Chase stared at him, lips parted. His fingers, previously, clutching the bedsheets, released their grip, and he wrapped his arms around Lyle’s waist. He buried his face in Lyle’s shoulder, sobbing softly. Lyle was taken by surprise, but he patted Chase’s back and eventually let his cheek rest against his head. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Lyle mumbled. He laced his fingers in Chase’s hair. “You’re safe, buddy. It’s over. I’m gonna go make us some coffee.” He began to pull away, but Chase held him tighter.

“No. I mean- Please, stay with me for just a little longer?” Chase pleaded, his voice muffled by Lyle’s shirt. 

Lyle paused, then smiled, and nodded. “Sure. Whatever you need, pretty boy.” 

And there they stayed. Protected. Safe. Yes, the terror lingered, but what is terror if not beauty?

And if terror is beauty, then what is desire? We think we have many desires, but in fact, we have only one. What is it?

_ To live. _

Morton Chase was proud to have fulfilled that desire to live, and he was proud to continue living with Lyle Tibbet by his side.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading and i'm sorry!!! i referred to chase by his last name and tibbet by his first. i hate the name "morton" so much for absolutely no reason. also, it's my fic and you can't tell me what to do.


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